Rambling

Last night, I was watching the Discovery Channel special, "The Real Olympics." I wasn't able to start it, but I don't think I missed all that much. Anyway, it was basically (What is it with this word? Had an interview a few hours ago with N Steel, and I caught myself saying this all the time! When I finally got myself to stop it, I found my interviewer infected with the "basically" virus herself.) about the Ancient Greek Olympics and how it really was. The second part was a juxtaposition of the Olympics then and the Olympics now.

It was extremely interesting.

* * *

A Japanese gymnast named Fujimoto was featured briefly. He competed in the Olympics a few years back. Apparently, this guy had gotten injured before most of the competition started. But he kept the injury and the pain of it to himself. He didn't want the rest of his team to be disheartened by it, and, I suppose, he didn't want to let anybody, including himself, down. The only time people found out about it was when, after a really good run on the hanging double loops (or whatever it is technically called), he collapsed on the mat.

There was also this story of how a Greek fighter swallowed his own teeth, as his opponent had punched them out. Turns out he didn't want anyone to know how badly he was beaten. Bloody.

These reminded me of Donald Geisler, the Filipino tae kwon do jin, and how he wanted to keep on fighting his Tunisian opponent, even after he had injured his ankle.

I hope that when my turn comes to do something like this, I won't disappoint myself.

On another note, can the stomach digest teeth?

* * *

I also learned about how the term "amateur" was coined.

In Ancient Greece, there was no distinction between the amateur and the professional athlete. Athletes were representations of the gods, and that was that. But in the Victorian era, the elites got into sports and started having competitions. However, being the elite that they were, they ruled out people who would be naturally good at the sport. For instance, in boating competitions, they ruled out the boatmen, and in competitons of strength, they ruled out the laborers. This led to the distinction between professional athletes and amateur ones.

Interesting.

When I was listening to this explanation, I remembered the Globalization class of Dr. Benjamin Tolosa, the chair of the Political Science department. I took this class as my elective, when I was a junior at university. Reality as a construct, he taught us. I'll remember that one until forever.

Now that I think about it, I am pretty sure that my readings for Mr. Michael Coroza's Filipino class, when I was a sophomore, had constructivist elements in them. They were about how the history of the Philippines, as seen by the natives, had been lost and replaced by the account of the Spaniards. But then again, when I was taking it up, no one explicitly explained what constructivism was.

I suppose that is why I associate the term more with Dr. Tolosa than with Mr. Coroza.

* * *

Other fascinating things were presented in the documentary, but I won't be writing about all of them here. Just watch it for yourselves. That is, if you're into that kind of thing, like I am.

Last interesting thing I'll write about (at least for now) - If you won a Gold medal in the Ancient Greek Olympics, you wouldn't need a wall to protect your town. For as long as you were there, no one would attack it. Why? Because the Gold medalist was supposed to have been favored by the gods. A demi-god, he was. Or, more accurately, a mortal one.

The essence of that is not too far from the saying, "The glory of God is the human fully alive." is it?

* * *

After this show ended, there was another documentary, also on the Discovery Channel, this time on terrorism. There were also two other documentaries on TV: one on a Filipino man having a sex-change in Thailand and the other on ways of life in really far-flung areas. While I find these topics interesting, I didn't watch any of them.

Sometimes, it just really is time to tune out.

* * *

Now that we're on TV, or on the subject of TV shows at least, allow me to say that books are still my favorite medium of instruction.

Don't get me wrong - I do value multimedia education. For instance, when I was a junior in high school, I reviewed for the Bioman's test in genetics by watching the clip on meiosis/mitosis on the Encarta CD. Actually, now that I think about it, I went through all the clips of that CD, from the features of the authors (Jane Austen was there!) to the more science-y stuff. They're really nice to watch. Entertaining too.

But then again, there's just something about seeing the letters on the page that you turn with your hand.

* * *

Speaking of hands, I replaced two of my tools with new batteries yesterday: my TV remote controller, which is now obedient, and my toothbrush, which is, once again, too jittery for comfort.

* * *

I have a feeling that my era of unconventional fruitfulness will end soon. When it does, my only regret would be that it could not have lasted longer.

* * *

Is there such a thing as a professional rambler?

* * *

It is with these thoughts that I live out the last day of August of this year.

The Goddess

When we were studying Greek mythology in High School, my teacher, the best English teacher ever, asked us to write about the goddess we envisioned ourselves to be. I said that I was Pyrone (pi-roh-nee), the Goddess of Prevailing Persuasion. I thought it was a brilliant name then but have since realized that my sister was right in saying that it sounds like pepperoni without the pep. A couple of years later, the Olympians (also known as the Spoonful Goddesses) were given titles. Mine was the Goddess of Wit and Eloquence. When I saw this test, the divine in me just demanded that I take it. I am now also known as the Goddess of Dreams.

I love being a goddess.

Which Of The Greek Gods Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Notes:

• My essay on Pyrone remains to be one of my favorite pieces. Humor me by reading it, if and when I do post it.
  
• The analytical entry I was planning to write will just have to wait. This parking space was too tempting to resist, even for a goddess like me.

My Favorite Quotes

These are my favorite quotes:

• Only passions, great passions, can elevate the soul to great things.
• The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.
• Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss it, you will land among the stars.
• A man who wants to lead his orchestra must turn his back on the crowd.
• I would rather fail in the cause that someday will triumph than triumph in a cause that someday will fail.
• Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.
• The road to success is dotted with many tempting parking places.
• Every job is a self-portrait of the person who does it. Autograph your work with excellence.

God's Little Devotional Book for Students.

United States of America: Honor Books, 1995.

Reformatting

In the beginning, I adopted a puppy. It was friendly, simple, and neat. Its first owner, from Blogskins, called it Grey Matter. I did not give it a name, but I did give it a home. From the time that I made this puppy mine, I paid attention to nothing else. Day and night, I tended to its needs, researching on grooming techniques and painstakingly experimenting on the myriad of ways to make it achieve its potential.

At first, the puppy was endearingly cooperative. It was patient and encouraging, allowing me to learn from it and grinning at me when I made even the slightest progress. But the puppy soon showed its wicked side. It was like a chameleon in that way: it appeared perfectly healthy to me but painfully contorted to everyone else. Levi, Gigi, and Len exposed the extent of the puppy's betrayal.

That the puppy could do this to me is a most sorrowful mystery - my very own Agony in the Computer. Thank God that Cushee, my shih tzu, never hurt me in this way. Oh the pain! The sorrow! I felt that there was to be no tomorrow! But tomorrow did come and, with it, a most grave realization: the Taming of the Puppy is my job to do. In this life, it is one of my many burdens to bear.

While the task at hand is daunting, I take solace in the knowledge that I do not labor in vain. The puppy, now called Harbor, has been slowly responding to my efforts. While traces of its savage nature can still be discerned, its obvious imperfections are gradually fading away. Truly, Harbor is almost unrecognizable as the beast that it was before.

But the praise for this does not belong to me alone. Levi, who is skilled in dealing with impossible puppies, if not with bratty children, has been invaluable in this endeavor and must be credited for his efforts.

Indeed, I am confident of success in this. I can only wish that it will come soon. Very soon.

The Nanny Diaries

The Nanny Diaries, by Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus, is a fictitious account of the experiences of Nanny, a 21-year-old nanny, with a rich family from New York. It reads, however, like a well-researched documentary, which cleverly exposes both the minutest details and the general feel of the American baby-sitting experience. Skillfully narrated with highly colorful but undeniably honest prose, it's a voyeuristic thrill you shouldn't miss.

That I may one day write a book like this!

Note: The picture is a link to the webpage source. I will be crediting my pictures in this manner from now on. Thanks to Levi for his tuition in this matter.

The Shot

I shot myself once.

I think I was in Grade School then. My brother and my sisters and I were in a room, and I was playing with my brother's air gun. Since I was bored, I decided to put on a little show. I cocked the gun, slid the magazine out, and pressed the nozzle to my palm. Then I told my siblings to look at me. When they did, I pulled the trigger.

I ended up howling. Or roaring. Yep, if you guys head a Screaming Banshee on some memorable afternoon years before, then you heard me. I thought I had shot a hole through my left palm. (Not that it would have been the first hole there; that palm has actually been stabbed with a stake disguised as a pencil, just like that which Buffy used to kill a vampire once. But that's another story.)

Surprisingly, the tiny green pellet contented itself with leaving an equally tiny red mark that did not even last the day. I emerged from this ordeal unscathed. But I know I have been scarred.

I am not playing with guns again.

Note: I did not intend to shoot myself. I thought that I had rid the gun of all bullets when I slid the magazine out. Apparently, it does not work that way: the cocking of the gun traps a bullet and keeps it there until it is released with a shot. Sheesh. On the bright side, thank God it was just an air gun.

My Element: Wind

Your element is Wind.
I wanted to get Fire. But I never get Fire. But at least I didn't get Earth.
And no offense to the Earth. I love the Earth! Really!
I just don't want it to be my element.

You're light-hearted, carefree, kind, sensitive, and mysterious.
Yeah, I could be light-hearted. Um, no, I'm not really carefree. Because when I'm being carefree, I worry about being too carefree. Especially now. I'd like to think I'm kind. And sensitive too. And mysterious. But I think I'm the only one who finds myself mysterious.

You have friends who most absolutely love you.
I wish but do not fish!

You can be calm and soothing one minute and raging in anger the next, so no one wants to get on your bad side.
Yes, I do have mood swings. But I indulge this in private. I don't lash out at people, but I do scare them when I start laughing by myself. As for getting on my bad side, yes, you most definitely would not want to do that. Concentrate your effort on something less perilous to the self.

Your beauty is inspiring and magical.
True. And here is me sharing a laugh with the stoic computer.

What's Your Element?
brought to you by Quizilla

Note: I took the liberty of editing the results, as it was originally posted, but I did not touch the content. Also, I replaced the picture in the webpage with that which is credited below.

Source of picture: http://milcrav.sitefantasy.us/fairy_art2.html

Lynn Picknett's Mary Magdalene

Among other things, this book claims that:

1) Mary Magdalene is an Egyptian - and therefore a black - priestess of great power.
2) Jesus is a magician from outside Jerusalem who dabbled in necromancy.
3) John Baptist is the true Christ.
4) The Virgin Mary may have been an adulteress.
5) The Holy Grail is none other than the severed head of John the Baptist.

Note: The list is by no means comprehensive.

There is no doubt that this is book is interesting. And there are some parts that are historically credible, such as the discussion of the several dying-and-rising gods from Egypt and also the parallels between the Bible and the Egyptian Book of the Dead. But the majority of this book is pure sensationalism.

1) Lynn Picknett indulges in her personal biases.

Ms. Picknett seems rather proud of the fact that she carries a grudge against the Roman Catholic Church (i.e. the Church that disillusioned her and still wounds her to this day). Her subjective tone undermines, if not completely obliterates, her academic treatment of this highly sensitive matter. This personal bias may very well be responsible for the flaws in reasoning that are evident all throughout the book.

2) The logical process she employs is highly questionable.

From among thousands of equally plausible possibilities, Ms. Picknett picks the most sensational one and passes it of as the Truth. This is done without explaining either why the other possibilities must be dismissed or why the possibility she picked is the most objectively compelling. The effects of this flawed process are magnified, as she uses the "Truth" as part of her foundation for establishing other "Truths."

Seen in this light, her conclusions remain to be merely entertaining or insulting possibilities instead of the Truth that she claims them to be.

CHAMELEON SOFIA

This book explains the radical Christian, Magdalenian, and Johannite theory of Lynn Picknett, enemy of the Church and friend of aliens.


Source of picture: www.anotherbookshop.com

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Neat: Everything that gets unpacked is packed right in.

Compact: Each character had a crucial role to fulfill.

Philosophical: Its subtle parallels to life welcome, if not demand, reflection.

Galing.

CHAMELEON SOFIA

I am capable of writing short posts.


Source of picture: www.allmovieportal.com

Danger, Danger

I have found myself in dangerous situations, potential crime scenes, really, that could have very well featured me as the helpless victim. I will share three such instances with you.

Note: I do have more experiences of this nature (i.e. Oxford and the Sydney International Airport), but I've lost interest in this topic and will thus write about them some other time.

1) Melbourne, June 2002

I was in the tram with two other friends. But since the tram was full, I was sitting near the front beside an old lady, while my two friends were at the back. From right behind me, I heard someone cursing. Of course, I had to see who it was. It was this twenty-something Aussie guy (from the accent) with dirty yellowish dreadlocks (not the braids but those columnar things that look like bouncy snakes). He was standing behind me, looking at the floor, and cursing for all he was worth.

I was really scared. I could hear him clearly because the tram was very quiet. Everyone was eyeing him warily, thankful, perhaps, that they were seated where they could see him. I was seated in front of him, so I couldn't really see him. But I did twist my body around, not to look at him directly, but to keep him in sight. If I was going to be stabbed or hit, I wanted to at least be given the chance, however poor it was, to avoid the blow.

The old lady beside me nudged me and told me "Don't look." She wasn't Australian. At least, her English wasn't Australian. So I faced front again. The guy didn't stop cursing. I didn't stop praying.

And nothing happened.

2) Kensington Garden, May 2003

This was my second time in London, my first time in Kensington Garden. My courtesy call in the Embassy, with Tita Ubas, Ann Mara, and Milleo, had just finished and I was left on my own. I didn't want to go back to the hotel, which was just a block away from the Embassy, so I decided to explore the garden.

It started of well enough. The weather was cool, and I was happy to be walking alone in a scenic park. I walked farther and farther away, sort of keeping in mind the way back to the hotel. Then I saw the duck pond. I think the pond enchanted me (I don't know why, really, because I rather dislike large birds.) because that's where I got lost. Really. I was seeing the same things - the pond, the grass, the bikers, the walkers - but things were not where I knew them to be. In other words, the path to the main road, where my hotel was situated, was missing.

I kept walking and walking. It was around six in the evening, and I knew better than to hope that it would be like Cape Town, where eight in the evening feels like four in the afternoon. The sun goes to bed late there. At least, it did when I was there, which was on December 2002.

I felt slight panicky. Okay, I felt very panicky. Now I know how Gretel felt when all those crumbs she kept scattering behind her disappeared. Not that I was scattering any crumbs. Then just like that, I found my way back.

The day after, when Ann Mara brought me to the hotel for the Competition, I told him about what had happened. He looked at me, aghast. He said "Why did you go wandering off by yourself? Didn't you know that a young girl was killed there just last week?"

No. I didn't know that.

3) British Museum, May 2003

A few days after the Kensington Experience, I was in the British Museum with my Polish roommate, Woina Ajerack. Since we wanted to see different things (i.e. I had been there before, so I wanted to spend my time in the huge library, while she wanted to see the sculptures.), we decided to meet up at the entrance at five.

Well, I was there a couple of minutes before five, and she wasn't. Having been late a few times myself, I didn't mind her tardiness and so sat there waiting. I was waiting for a long time. The Museum was closing, and she was nowhere to be found. Finally, I arrived at the conclusion that she probably found her way back to the hotel because we went all "invisible Willow" on each other.

Which meant that I would have to find my way back there alone. This was a problem. My roommate was really good with directions, so I had decided to let her handle all that direction-business for the both of us. Bad idea. (In real life, do not do this.) I didn't know how to get back. I asked the guard for directions, but he had none to give.

He called another guard, a Morgan Freeman look-a-like. At this point, I was getting so frustrated that I had almost made my mind up to go outside and get a cab, even if I knew the hotel was five minutes away. Morgan was more helpful. He goes, "Follow me," and starts walking off. Of course, I follow him, happy to be getting somewhere. But then I get very nervous, because we seem to be going through all these dark corridors and secret passageways in the museum. I start preparing myself to run away at the slightest hint of danger. Finally, we arrive at the back entrance of the museum. And I feel stupid because Morgan points at this short street, across which I could already see the hotel.

When I get to the room, Woina is there. She exclaims "There you are! I was so worried."

So was I, Woina.

CHAMELEON SOFIA

There is a God.


Sources of pictures:
Melbourne Tram: www.electric-rly.society.org.uk/photos.htm
Kensington Garden: http://www.apl.ncl.ac.uk/coursework/IThompson/public_parks.htm
British Museum: http://home.online.no/~shammas/british_museum.html

Two-Child Policy

I was originally planning to write about my close encounters - the times I almost found myself the star (i.e. the victim) of one of those horrifying murder-mysteries. Seriously. I'm still going to write about that, but there is something I just have to comment about first. And if you still don't know what that is, I suggest that you look at the title again.

That's right - the two-child policy. For those who don't know (and I deem it rather problematic if you haven't at least heard of it), the two-child policy is a move by the Philippine government to control the nation's population which has been spiralling out of control. The two-child policy itself is part and parcel of a wider program, which includes information dissemination on birth control methods. Specifically, what the two-child policy does is to provide incentives for couples to have just two children (i.e. if you have two children, you can avail of certain social priveleges, something you will not be able to do upon the birth of the third child onwards). Thus, it is a little different from China's one-child policy (and not just because one is different from two), where, in very simple terms, only the first child is free while the succeeding children are subject to an exorbitant government tax.

That's it, basically. I don't want to explain any more than I have to. If you have questions, you can either post a comment and hope that I'm in an especially patient mood when I get to read it or, and I think this is the better option, look it up in the Internet yourself.

For the purposes of this discussion, I will be focusing on the two-child policy itself. I will be setting aside the information dissemination campaign that accompanies it because, firstly, this is something that has been done before and, secondly, while controversial on its own, it's an issue that I do not find particularly interesting.

CHAMELEON SOFIA

1) Birth Control: Is government intervention justified?

The main opponents of this policy argue that the decision about the number of children to have falls in the private sphere and, therefore, beyond government mandate.

False.

The government, the ideal government anyway, has the responsibility to protect people from other people, which is why it has been said that "your right ends where your neighbour's begins." Also, the government has the right to protect people from themselves, which is why suicide is technically a crime.

In this case, the danger to other people is clear: more babies = more citizens = spreading the already thin resources of the government to a wider base. In other words, the standard of living of the nation will forever be limited by the mismatch, to say the least, between the resources of the country and the people who can legally claim a right to use them. The danger to the self of too much children is also clear. Despite the economic argument, which I find particularly weak, of how children equates to economic resources (i.e. the more the merrier), I posit that more children pose a drain to the resources of the family. This is especially the case when the nature of economic resources, as influenced by globalization, is characterized not by the number of people but by the quality of their education. In other words, there has been a shift from a manual perpspective of people to a service-oriented one. In the former, where resources are procured by mere reproduction, the logic of giving birth to an entire barangay may hold ground. But in the latter, where investment is necessary before the end goal of service-proficiency can be arrived at, the logic does not hold ground.

Indeed, child control is not a private matter. Because it affects both the self, the family, and the entire nation, the government has both the right and the responsibility to step in.

2) Effects of Government Intervention

To say that the government has the right to step in is not to say that the government should step in in this particular way. That much is clear. So the nature of the policy itself, its effects, should now be discussed.

For the purposes of this discussion, I will be putting aside religious objections. While I believe they should be considered, especially in a country where 98 % of the population ascribes to the particular religion that is so noisily objecting to this, I also believe that, at the end of it, religious considerations are secondary. And I don't say this because I am an atheist or an agnostic. I stand by the principle of separation of church and state. The Philippines is not, after all, a theocracy. Whether this is good or bad falls beyond the scope of this discussion.

The main effect of this policy is clear to me: the commodification of children. Children become an economic good with a corresponding price attached to them. This, basically, is what the policy does.

Well, that way of putting it was scandalously harsh. But I think that this effect has been around for a long time. With the advent of Adam Smith's free market, everything has been subsumed in the totality of economics. Everything, even people, now have a price. To say that people are removed from this is completely absurd. Economics has to be considered when having children - after all raising children cannot be done on pure will alone. The physical realm is necessary for this, and it just so happens that this physical realm now operates according to price.

Besides, I think that what should be given importance to is the quality of life. Once again, I am not saying that, in order for people to turn out good, there has to be the presence of an environment characterized by so and so materials. Of course not. As an avid reader, I am well aware of people who rise up from squalid conditions and achieve greatness. And I applaud them for it. But I also believe that it is important to be reasonable. For every person that is able to do that, how many people aren't able to do that and instead go on the opposite path? The fact is that the environment has something to do with how the individual turns out. That's the old equation of nature + nurture coming into play. And because of that, I think economic consideration are very important and should be considered in this.

Indeed, I have no problem with using an essentially economic equation to look at children. I think that this would be better for them, as it would introduce the consideration of factors, formerly ignored, that determine the kind of life they would have. And I think this is important, as there are some kinds of lives that are essentially dehumanizing.

3) Alternatives

It may be argued that the two-child policy is a rather extreme measure and that other policies may achieve the same goal without causing as much as ruckus as this.

To that, I ask: what alternatives? I think everything has been done before. Information dissemination, on its own, is not new. It has been undertaken by non-governmental organizations, even if the Church has been against this since forever. No tangible effects have been seen.

I am more than willing to be proven wrong in this. I welcome new ideas. But I am not delusional.

Don't expect me to praise an alternative that does not exist.

Conclusion

And so I end this entry with a clear, albeit not that sophisticated or inlusive, stance to the two-child policy.

The Chameleon will make additions when she deems necessary. Or when her interest in this topic, which has been temporarily exhausted by her recently concluded non-stop typing marathon, is piqued again.

Source of picture: http://www.univie.ac.at

Heroism

What is heroism?

I first asked this question when the Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs) were proclaimed the bagong bayani ng bayan (i.e. the new heroes of the nation). If I remember correctly, this was at the height of the Flor Contemplacion period, complete with the movie starring Nora Aunor. Soon after this initial questioning, the Chameleon acted up, and I found myself pursuing other interests.

Then Angelo de la Cruz happened.

For the American and Australian politicians, he is the man who should have died. For some Filipinos, especially for his relatives and the media, he is the hero who lives. And for others, he is the reason why the country's head now lies in the guillotine of the merciless world. These descriptions do carry with them grains of truth - and, by implication, grains of untruth as well. But I am not here to philosophize on his many titles - his heroism is what I question.

But first, the original question must be answered - "What is heroism?"

CHAMELEON SOFIA

The essence, the eidos, of heroism is twofold:

1) The Intention

The benefit to whatever the hero is a hero for or of (i.e. hero of the nation) should be intended. This intention should be primary in nature, with all other concerns, most notably interests relating to the self, becoming secondary in nature.

This means that there is no such thing as the accidental or incidental hero.

An archer who aims at a deer but hits an eagle instead deserves no praise for downing the eagle. Why? Because the said archer is a victim of fate and not the master of it. The downing of the eagle, while an action performed by the body, was not intended by the mind. And it is this intention, this direction of a subjective action to an object, that is the condition for us to claim responsibility, and therefore credit, for a particular action.

If there is no intention, then the actor, in any particular case, ceases to become a subject and instead becomes an object of outside action. In the example that I gave, the archer is happened to, just as the eagle is. Fortunately for the archer, this brought honor. Unfortunately for the eagle, this brought death.

Indeed, there is no heroism for being at the right place and that right time. For if that were so, heroism would be based on luck and not on merit. Which means that trying to be a hero is futile endeavor. Which is a scary thought, not only for the individual but for the collective.

Why? Go figure.

2) The Action

The heroic act should produce results that, at the very least, approximate what the subject intended by it.

This means that there is no such thing as destructive hero who meant well.

Imelda Romualdez Marcos is not a national hero. The self-proclaimed incarnation of love and beauty may have intended (although this itself is dubious) to spread love and beauty to the Philippines and then to the world. But if she succeeded in spreading discord and ugliness instead - and it may be noted that she succeeded remarkably in this - then she is not to be credited for her noble intentions.

Pure intentions are the property of the self. It is only when they are acted upon that they enter the public realm and can thus be adjudged as either heroic or not.

That her actions were so different from her intentions can only mean two things:

a) That she was not discerning enough or heroic enough to translate her intentions into actions, often compromising them in destructive ways; and
b) That her intentions themselves, when brought down from their loftiness and made more specific, were downright questionable.

So is Angelo de la Cruz a hero?

Is the lucky archer a hero? Is Imelda Marcos a hero?

I know my answer to these questions.

Notes:

1) I am not degrading the profession of OFWs or Angelo de la Cruz and, in fact, hold them in high, albeit not heroic, regard for what they do.
2) I assert ownership over all the contents of this blog.
3) I am not a philosopher. Yet.

Source of picture: http://deseretnews.com